Angel
by Deus Misereatur
Summary: She came just as sudden as she left. But she's your angel, now and forever. A Bya-Hisa one-shot.


**Title:**

Angel

**Summary:**

She came just as sudden as she left. But she's your angel, now and forever. A Bya-Hisa one-shot.

**Disclaimer:**

BLEACH does not belong to me; I am merely someone who enjoys both reading and writing fanfiction.

* * *

_And through it all, she offers me protection,__  
A lot of love and affection,  
- Robbie Williams, Angels_

* * *

You watch yourself in the mirror, meticulously picking out the invisible lint and stray threads from your white _haori_, all the while straightening and adjusting it to be of appropriate length.The wound on your forehead seems to have healed, and you press the _kenseiken_ firmly into place, before picking up your _Senbonsakura_ and its sheath and attaching it to the obi on your waist. You stray a glance at the huddled lump, with just a hint of the shimmering obsidian tresses peeking out, sleeping soundly, in your bed, blanketed in the messy pink sheets and spare a rare smile. You are off to work, and you find it comforting that it is your work that helps keep _her_ safe. And you look forward to getting back into her warm embrace and soothing presence, for it is _she_ that helps keep _you_ safe.

You eye the sniveling, growling _menos_ contemptuously, for you know a simple mistake means certain life or death (re-death, in any _shinigami_'s case). And such a simple mistake is not one you are willing to commit, for death would simply mean an eternal parting from _her_ and everything about _her_ and that is simply something you would not want. To even contemplate such an event pains you and you vow never, ever to let anything remotely similar occur. And so, you draw yourself up, steady your sword, and take a deep breath. _Senbonsakura Kageyoshi!_ And you watch the petals fly, flitting gracefully in the blue sky to bring _you_ back to _her_.

You drag your wounded body back into your manor, blood seeping through your once white _haori_. You pay no attention to the muddy tracks on the stainless floors; you pay no heed to the bloodstains that mark you passing. You adamantly refused treatment from the Fourth Division and their Captain; you seek not the cold professional hands of an expert, but the warm loving touch of your wife. You know _her_ reactions perfectly well; you love _her_ gasp and you love _her_ scolding and you love _her_ fussing; but most of all, you love _her_ caring and _her_ nurturing, and that is all _you_ need to live.

You always reflected back on your adolescent years with a cynical perspective, you know you were a wild child and it was a miracle that your grandfather actually manage to tame you and mould you into who you are today: a respectable Captain of a respectable Division, and a noble lord of a noble house. But even as you reflect on your status today, you know how unlikely it was for you to turn out this way if you had not met _her_; _she_ was as _she_ is as _she_ will be, adamantly gentle and infinitely patiently; _she_ loved the former you and loves the current you and will love the future you; should _you_ be deserving of _her_ nourishing love.

You hear the slight mumble of the oh-so-honored guests celebrating the oh-so-honored ceremony, and it immediately raises your ire as you hear the foul-meaning,ill-spoken words meant to derogate your wife filter into the stuffy room. A swift glare sufficiently silenced the rude noble, but also earned you a reproachful look from the very damsel-in-distress. Apparently it would neither do you nor your reputation any good by intimidating members of the first noble house in _Rukongai_; you would have heatedly argued that your reputation pales in comparison with _hers_ and that you have your sword to defend yours while _she _is defenseless against such attacks, had it not been for _her_ look in _her _eyes that explained everything. _You have your sword but I am your shield_, _her_ eyes told you_._ _She_ apologized for your lack of manners and the courtesan huffily agreed to forget such a _faux pas_. _She_ is protecting _you_ again, even as _she_ is wounded.

Your first impression of _her_ was that of a noble and a commoner, you watched _her _with nothing more than disdain and perhaps a hint of amusement, as you watched_ her_ haggle furiously with the vegetable vendor over the price of a couple of good spices. At that very moment, you would never have expected yourself to end up marrying _her_, but maybe, just maybe, you fell in love a little with _her _right at that moment. Perhaps it was the glint in _her _ebony hair, perhaps it was the determined glare in _her _violet eyes, perhaps it was _her _small and slender body which positively glowed with energy. Or just perhaps it was the fact that _she _was the person, who was clumsy enough to fall in your stride, and you were chivalrous enough to cushion _her _fall; for whatever reason it may be, you somehow know that at that precise moment, _she _has already saved _you _from a life of loneliness.

Your father, and his father before him, had always maintained the perfect dignity of a proper noble estate. Not a speck of impropriety could be seen within the massive manors of the Kuchiki house, and her lords' life were expected to be as orderly as the straight rows of cherry blossom trees that adorned the grounds, as proper as the respect the house commanded. It was expected of you to maintain such a respectable tradition, and you thought you would have. But creativity, impetuosity and spontaneity invaded your life the moment _she _invaded your heart. Your life was turned topsy-turvy and the very moment you saw the lone cherry blossom tree in the middle of the bare courtyard, you finally saw what _she _wanted you to see. _You _took _her _to that very tree the day it bloomed and then place a hand on the tree and turn to _her_. _Thank you_.

You dust the gravestone a carefully, making sure not to disturb the offering placed there by the loving sister. A bouquet of cherry blossoms was all the latter knew off of her deceased sister and you could not really fault her for that. But it still hurts you nevertheless, for there is no one else besides yourself that would truly know _her_ for who _she _is. Especially not even _her_ own sister. But you would remedy it. You would tell all that you know of _her_ to _her_ sister and let the truth be revealed. You would tell how you met, how you two loved and how you two married. But, most of all, you would tell how _she_ was _your_ angel and protected and loved you. _Till we meet again, Hisana_. You press your lips on the cold, cold stone that housed her ashes and walk away.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I'm so, so sorry for my long, long hiatus from fanfic-dom. I was running low on ideas for my Of Shinigamis and Karatekas, but I promise I rev it up again! I'm not particularly familiar with Byakuya and Hisana, so this may actually sound a little OOC, but nevertheless, I do hope it's alright with the readers. This fic is dedicated to icepanda, and I hope its satisfactory. Enjoy reading, for I did enjoy writing it.


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